Jamie Revell

The main plot of Proxima centres around a colonisation attempt on a habitable planet orbiting Proxima Centauri, and mankind's first exploration beyond the solar system. A weakness here is that the actual United Nations plan here doesn't really make a lot of sense, and, while we're presumably supposed to put it down to the geopolitics of the setting, it's never properly explained how anyone could think this was a good plan.

That aside, though, the book has a number of strengths. The depiction of the alien world and its ecology is possibly the strongest, giving a real sense of atmosphere and a believable yet strange biology. The main plot keeps moving, changing in tone as events unfold in sometimes unexpected directions.

A subplot back in our own solar system deals with a scientist who makes an amazing discovery that turns out to have great relevance to what's going on on Proxima. Here we get to see some of the background to what's happening elsewhere, although not everything is coloured in in precise detail. Here, too, there are some sudden changes in tone as the Earth's history develops, and which keep the story moving on to new events.

The story is quite an epic, and unexpectedly ends on a cliffhanger (a sequel has since been released). At times it's rather grim, and it certainly doesn't have a positive view of human nature. There are also a lot of questions left unanswered - presumably intentionally so - which may put some readers off.

But, on the whole, I found it a good read.

I've listed this book as fantasy, which seems the consensus, but it's a little harder to classify than that. It's set in a far future solar system where power is in the hands of necromancers, so there are spaceships and signs of high technology, but most of the latter has been abandoned and the necromancy is never explained as anything other than magic... so fantasy is perhaps the closer vibe.

The story concerns a deadly trial being undertaken by representatives of each of the solar system's planets (including Pluto, from which the title character hails... I mean, it's never called ‘Pluto', but it obviously is). The fact that necromancy is the only form of magic anyone practices, and that the two central characters spend most of their time with skulls painted on their faces gives this a distinctly goth vibe and it can get pretty gloomy - and viscerally violent - at times. This is offset by Gideon's irreverent attitude, often bringing in more present-day sensibilities and speech when things threaten to get too highfalutin'.

At times, the large size of the cast becomes a little overwhelming, and it becomes confusing who exactly is who and which of the Nine Houses is which, but this does become easier as the book progresses. (There's also a glossary and a guide to the characters and houses, but these aren't so easy to access in the Kindle version I was reading as they would be in a physical book). The result is on odd book, but one that feels worth it by the end, and that does some good worldbuilding as well as providing us with a memorable title character. And, to be honest, a fair amount of Gothic gore alongside the splashes of humour.

Generally described as “steampunk”, but with not a lot of steam and no trace of the punk, this is set in an alternate Victorian Britain that has accepted vampires and werewolves into society. Sort of a mid-Victorian True Blood, only with a lot more humour.

The tone is breezy and fun, and the heroine impresses as a rebellious woman who is nonetheless clearly a product of her time and social station. The story is by no means a comedy, although it has its comedic moments, and a great sense of fun, even where some of the characters are sinister or evil.

It's hardly what you'd call “deep”, although it's well written and makes a nice break between more serious novels. The only other Gail Carriger book I've read is the first of her Finishing School series - unlike that, this is decidedly not Young Adult, with much less of the weird tech, rather more of the dark elements, and a romance plot that concludes with a steamy epilogue.

An excellent entry in the series, which sees Howard heading to America on the trail of an evangelical preacher who also seems to be a cultist. There is, perhaps, a better mix here of the action, horror, and humour elements than was present in the third book (which veered rather more strongly towards the horror). Some new characters are introduced, and, in addition to the specific threat at the heart of the novel, it's also becoming clear that there's a larger plot arc through the series, as events in earlier volumes become tied together, and events are left somewhat open-ended.

The second book in the series replaces London's theatrical history with jazz music, as Grant investigates the magical murder of a musician. This brings in more of his family background, as well as expanding on the world of magical Britain, and we also see more of his boss's backstory.

Perhaps the two things that stand out most about this book are the details of the police work and the obvious love for the London setting. The former are unusually authentic for a book that's as much about dark wizards and supernatural beings as it is about a murder mystery (and honestly, whodunnit isn't that hard to work out - the real mystery is in the why). The latter comes across in the use of real locations, and the asides about the city's culture and history. One can almost feel the discomfort when Grant has to head out to Norfolk to follow up a lead.

Once again, though, there's the beauty of Aaronovitch's style, combining light irreverence and fast-paced action with some quite gory (and definitely not kid-friendly) detail. It successfully steers a middle line between say, the remorseless grimness of Paul Cornell's London Falling and the comedic tones of something like Gail Carriger's Parasolverse, and is much the stronger for it. It's another great outing in what's turning into a high-quality series... and the final line opens up a whole new set of possibilities for future books.